A Very Evoking Song
by squeakykiki
Summary: This is just a little angsty oneshot I thought up while listening to a song the other day. Em, B&B shippers let's face it, who isn't? you have been warned.


Brennan thrummed her fingers against the smooth surface of the counter. The heat was stifling, making her feel unduly sluggish and weak. She greedily eyed the bottle of water resting on the counter before her. Just imagining the cool liquid seeping into her mouth, easing the painful dryness of her throat was enough to make her shiver reflexively.

The quiet, smiling man glanced at her quickly. The shop was empty, his clinking with the change sounding like gears grinding in the desolate quiet. The noise of the drawer finally closing came like a thunderclap, causing her to jump. He smiled apologetically at her fearful reaction and dropped several coins into her outstretched hand.

The corners of her lips turned upwards in a gesture of thanks. She reached out her hand, fingers touching off the cool of the bottle, condensation making it slippery.

The song wafting from the speakers changed. She hadn't even been aware that music had been playing. It was now painfully, completely and uncontrollably brought to her attention.

The bottle was but a few inches off the counter, held precariously in her trembling grasp, when the intensity of emotions rushing over her became too much and it fell from her grip. Her mouth dropped open, as though in response to the accident, but her features showed no indication of being aware of what had occurred.

The man hastily ducked behind the counter and retrieved the bottle from where it had rolled, now wedged between a rickety chair and a small cupboard. He gave the surface of it a quick wipe, straightened up and stretched out his hand to the woman.

She wasn't aware of him. She was frozen, paralysed by the thoughts and memories bubbling to the surface, feelings and ideas she had worked so hard to suppress. Her eyes were glassy, her head tilted slightly, as though this would give the quivering notes and smooth voice easier access to her brain, currently writhing in turmoil.

"Miss?"

His voice was heavily accented but he said the word clearly. She blinked once, as though aware that something was happening around her but not quite able to process it. He cleared his throat and tried again, louder this time.

"Miss?"

She shook her head, dissipating the fog that clouded her reactions. The man gave a slight start. He honestly wouldn't have been surprised if she hadn't moved again. She had been so still he was sure she must have gone into a deep shock, if not expired altogether.

"I…"

She shook her head once more, bringing a hand briefly to rest against her forehead. Her eyes closed momentarily and she bit her lip almost unconsciously.

She changed suddenly. The hand lowered, dropping casually to rest against her thigh. Her lips settled back into a neutral position once more. The intense shining in her eyes suddenly seemed to dry, the light dancing within them abruptly extinguished. Her shoulders rolled back, tension seeming to flow out of them. Her face was calm and inscrutable; the only indicator of the last few moments was the almost blanched colouring of her skin.

The man's eyes widened slightly. She couldn't possibly be fine. An impulsive, heartfelt, personal reaction like that in the presence of a stranger is not the result of memories that can be easily banished after several agonising seconds. He couldn't help but admire her fortitude. Only years of unwavering discipline could culminate in a burying of emotions such as the one he had just witnessed.

She robotically reached for the bottle in his hand, eyebrows raised as though in amusement over her clumsiness. Mentally checking himself for his nosiness, he couldn't help asking, "You know the song?" He punctuated the question with a sharp upward point towards the speakers.

The woman took a serrated breath in. She looked as though she might lose her balance. As quickly as it had started, however, it was over and she pulled the bottle against her chest, lips pursing as she thought how to answer the inquiry. She nodded once and turned to go. She stopped herself before the movement was fully completed and whispered softly, "It's a good old song."

The man nodded in agreement and watched as she wordlessly crossed the floor and exited the shop.

Once outside, the heat hit Brennan like a slap but did little to abate the shivering currently coursing through her body. She stumbled blindly to her car, dragging her feet against the sandy ground. Clouds of dust billowed up and struck her skin, invading her lungs and smarting painfully against her eyes. She did nothing to lessen the stinging stream, however; she welcomed the pain. She reached a hand into her pocket and groped blindly for her keys. Her fingers closed around the smooth steel but it took a number of seconds before she was able to wrench them from their restrictive fabric prison. Her hands shook uncontrollably and the end of the key was unable to find entry into the narrow opening in the car door.

Something snapped abruptly. The keys and bottle fell from her weakening grasp, reaching the cushioned ground with a muffled thud. She pressed her body against the hot metal of the car, no longer able to stand unaided. Wave upon wave of deep, soul crushing despair rolled over her, threatening to drown her in their never-ending depths. She no longer had the strength nor the will to keep her intense feeling at bay and she laid her head against the car's scorching bonnet, quietly hissing in torment, as her body finally succumbed to her grief. Sobs tore through her aching limbs, chest tightly constricted, shoulders heaving and mouth open, vocal in the demonstration of her suffering.

Booth. After all this time, it was here, thousands of miles from home where she finally thought of him once more. Of the night they had sung that song to each other, oblivious to all others. She could still hear the clacking of the silverware as the waitresses sorted the cutlery. Still smell the strong, bitter scent of coffee. Still feel the fluttering in her stomach at the intensity of Booth's gaze. The bodies, countless victims of genocide, waiting to be identified here in this godforsaken land didn't even register in her mind as she focused on the times gone past, the way things used to be.

He had been her partner, her best friend. Her confidante and her teacher. Her saviour and her soul mate. Her one true love, always and forever.

Their magnetic gravitation towards each other coupled with their intense moments of furious bickering had been quickly noted and commented on by all who saw them. There were many who smiled knowingly and waited patiently, one or two not so patiently, for the pair to realise what was staring them straight in the face. Their fierce attraction could not be denied or ignored forever. The relationship would evolve and, no doubt after a lengthy waiting period, the two would no longer be able to keep their passion in check and a, finally public, love would blossom.

Brennan, secretly, had been sure of this eventual resolution to their partnership also. This certainty was intensified during the months after the abandoned wedding of Angela and Hodgins. Zach had gone to Iraq, Cam had buried herself in paper work and the newlyweds-that-weren't had spent increasing amounts of time away from the lab in order to track down Angela's elusive husband. All of this, along with Cam's new relationship with a suave fireman, equalling less hours spent in the lab during the evenings, had resulting in Booth and Brennan spending increasing amounts of time alone in each other's company. They had laughed, joked, talked, cried and flirted far away from judging, prying eyes. Those few weeks were among the happiest of the doctor's life.

Presently, people had returned and life had slowly shifted back to the way it was before. Angela had become Mrs. Angela Montenegro Hodgins, her first marriage having been finally dissolved. Cam had gotten engaged. Zach had a number of influential articles published in one or two strategic, well respected, journals and his star ascended rapidly.

Booth and Brennan? Their relationship remained static. It didn't change overnight, the unique mixture of quarrelling, teasing and fervid moments of appreciation continued for many months. It was obvious to everyone, however, that the spark was gone. They had waited too long and the romantic side of their connection would never bloom to fruition. The two drifted, no longer sure of the other's feelings and afraid to clarify them. Meetings and phone calls for non-work related reasons quietly fizzled out. Eventually, so too did their easy conversation. They weren't familiar enough with themselves as a pair to know how to react to the other's moods or words. They became clumsy and forgetful in their awkwardness.

After a number of inept months, a new agent was assigned as Brennan's partner. Booth stepped down without a fight. They had both promised to stay friends, to keep in touch, if only to let the other know of significant developments in their lives. She had never called him.

She had seen him once since the day he left. The exchange was marred with a forced delight at seeing the other again. Once the inevitable small talk had been dispensed with, the two had little to stay. They had stood, making floundering attempts to keep a conversation going before Booth had admitted that it was time for him to go. Both had heaved a sigh of relief as he turned his back and moved away.

It had been five years now since she had been paired with the new agent. Many others had followed, nobody ever seeming to come close to recreating the magic that had danced between the original duo. She hadn't allowed herself to think of him, had expressly forgiven it. She hoped her heart would find a way to forgive her for doing so now.

She still loved him. She would always love him. No one else having ever, nor would ever, come anywhere close to the degree of happiness and contentment he evoked within her. Her heart was his until her dying day and there was little she could to alleviate the suffering this caused her. But this was useless speculation over a situation that could not be rectified, no matter how intensely she might want to.

Utterly spent, she forced her body to move. Quivering, she bent and picked up the keys and bottle from their resting place. After a number of unsuccessful attempts, she finally managed to unlock the car door and pry it open. She settled herself inside and pulled the door shut. The water bottle was tossed into the adjacent seat. She rubbed her hands quickly over her face. Her skin felt uncomfortably tight from the countless tears that had finally broken forth, cascading down her cheeks, offering some form of relief. She sniffed, shook her head briefly and tightened her ponytail. She nodded to herself and turned the keys in the ignition. She would be fine. She was totally and utterly changed permanently by Seeley Booth and his memory would haunt her ceaselessly now that the stronghold of her emotions had been breached. But she would be fine. Pleased with the realisation, Brennan settled back into the chair, humming softly to herself as she drove out into the gathering dusk.


End file.
